


Parts We Choose to Play

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Prompt Fill, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7392982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sho knows nothing about Kyoko except for this: she is beautiful, her onscreen persona is terrifying, and (most infuriatingly) he can’t get her out of his mind."</p><p>After watching Dark Moon, Sho falls for the actress Kyoko, having no idea that she's the same girl he rejected only a few months ago. With the help of Mio and Natsu, Kyoko's willing to lead him on for the sake of revenge, but Sho isn't all that easy to control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parts We Choose to Play

Kyoko knows she has to be patient. When she crushes Sho it has to be, well, crushing. And for that she needs distance, needs height. She needs to be his equal in fame and status first, has to tower above him when she gets her revenge.

Now, she knows, she would mess it up. She’s too close to the whole Sho issue, the wound still fresh. And her status is still too low, a member of the Love Me section of the LME Agency. She can’t face him like this. She isn’t ready. So when offered the role in Sho’s PV, she carefully thinks over the pros and cons of the offer and then turns it down. Everyone is a little shocked (isn’t she obsessed with Sho? Shouldn’t it be a no-brainer?) but she just smiles and apologizes and says that she isn’t ready to meet her idol yet. Lory, no doubt, suspects something is wrong. But Lory doesn’t say anything, and life moves on. She gets a role in a different PV soon enough, and then a role in Dark Moon, and no one talks about Sho’s PV anymore.

She keeps an eye on Sho from a distance, carefully following his career. Fans still swoon over him, but he still remains behind Tsuruga Ren in the polls. He never stars in movies but his music grows ever more passionate and his charisma grows ever more powerful. You can’t get away from it on the radio. But she still changes the station every time he comes on, pitying the fans who do not know the secret ugliness behind his façade.

He remains as beautiful as ever, but she reminds herself that he is not the only one. Tsuruga Ren, her other, less important nemesis, is equally gorgeous if not more so. And Kyoko herself is blossoming under the talent of makeup workers and under the magic of success, the high of discovering her own acting talent. It's almost enough to make her forget revenge on Sho. Almost.

But she knows she can never really forget.

The day will come, she knows, when she will be able to see Sho face to face and demand satisfaction from him. She swears that when the day does come, she will not flinch back from exacting revenge.

///…///…///

Sho knows little about the woman Kyoko of LME. She doesn’t even use her family name for her career, only the name Kyoko—understandable, Sho won’t call himself Shotaro. He doesn’t know where she’s from or how old she is or how she learned how to act. He knows nothing except for this: she is beautiful, her onscreen persona is terrifying, and (most infuriatingly) he can’t get her out of his mind.

He first takes note of her when she refuses a role in his PV. Which is ridiculous—no one refuses him. He decides she must be very stupid and very rude, not worth his time. If he starts keeping track of her career after that, it’s a coincidence. He will claim, if anyone asks him, that he just happens to know every line she says in Dark Moon by heart because a friend of his is a Dark Moon fan. Of course he isn’t a Mio fan. What kind of twisted person would fall for Mio anyway?

In private, he is forced to admit that he is exactly that kind of twisted person.

He wants to meet this Kyoko, and it should be easy enough to arrange. But when he requests her for another PV, he is turned down yet again. When he visits Dark Moon set on an acceptable pretext, she is nowhere to be found. And she never visits his agency, thoroughly connected to LME. He’s beginning to think he’s being a crazy fan. He tears up the Dark Moon fan poster he has in his room (he only bought it because it was on sale anyway) and swears never to think about this Kyoko again.

Then a miracle happens.

“Sho, you’re a Dark Moon fan, right?” Shoko asks him one afternoon.

“Of course not,” Sho scoffs. “That stupid show? All the actors are terrible, especially Kyoko. And the plotline is really cliché. So dumb.”

“Kyoko, huh?” Shoko says. “I thought you’d be more against Tsuruga Ren, him being your rival and all.” She rolls her eyes.

“I meant Ren,” Sho says quickly.

“But you hate Dark Moon,” Shoko says. “All right. Then you won’t want an invitation to the exclusive party the cast is holding in a couple weeks. The one to…”

“Celebrate the last episode of Dark Moon airing,” Sho says. “You have an invitation? It’s impossible to get one of those. Especially if you’re not part of LME Agency. Give it to me.”

Shoko sighs. She talks about the strings she had to pull to get the invitation, guilt trips Sho into two different publicity stunts and makes snide comments about how he supposedly hates Dark Moon. He endures it with gritted teeth, and eventually she hands him an invitation to the one exclusive party this year he actually wants to go to.

“Shoko, you’re a miracle,” he says, and he kisses her on the cheek. She swats at him but he’s already left, making plans about what to wear and what to say and how on Earth he’s going to approach Kyoko. Because, of course, approaching Kyoko is the entire point.

The night of, he wears a nice suit and spends more than an hour working on hair and makeup. He’s the best looking man at the Dark Moon party, for certain. A formal suit like his fits in well with the directors and producers and tech crew and special guests. The cast, to celebrate the occasion, are all wearing their costumes from the show, so he can’t compare his dress with that of Tsuruga Ren (whom tabloids claim may actually be interested in this Kyoko).

Since the characters each flaunt their own distinct looks tonight, it’s easy enough to find Kyoko in seconds (although of course, something in his gut says he would always find her anyway). She is Mio tonight, and Mio (as he knows from watching every episode of Dark Moon at least three times) is never subtle. Her scar is blatant on her forehead, unhidden by hair even at such a formal event, and her eyes are on fire.

He comes over to her table, where she sits with an actress whose name he doesn’t know, holding casual conversation. He says, “Good evening,” and she looks over, and her eyes meet his and he is pinned.

Her eyes are golden. Like Mogami Kyouko’s. But this girl, no, this woman, could never be Mogami Kyouko. Mogami was bland, eager to please, plain, shy. Kyoko is challenging, almost hostile, captivating, on fire. He can see it all from the moment their eyes meet. And he can see, even then, that he is never going to be able to escape her.

///…///…///

She doesn’t expect Sho to be the one to approach her. She doesn’t even expect him to be at the party in the first place—it’s only for invited guests. When he comes to her table he catches her by surprise and she ends up glaring at him for a full minute while he just stares back with his mouth open. She is sure she’s making a fool of herself, sure he’s going to laugh at her (“Pathetic woman”) and leave. Instead, he sits down across from her at the table, smiles shakily, and says, “My name is Fuwa Sho.”

She’s so shocked (doesn’t he recognize her?) that she doesn’t respond for a moment. He continues in a quiet voice, introducing himself and listing his credits. Saying that of course she must have heard of him at some point, must have heard at least one of his songs, they’re on the radio often—well, at least sometimes—and some of them have been great hits. He starts listing songs, speaking more and more quietly as the list goes on. He keeps on looking at her intently, although his eyes flicker down to the table time and time again.

Seeing him so wrong footed is odd. Perhaps the oddest part is that it gives her no pleasure.

She interrupts him. “I know who you are.”

He pauses, then grins. “Oh. Of course you do. I just wondered, because you were taking a while to answer.”

Expecting her to jump to again, as if she were still his girlfriend, still his maid. She glares at him. “I will answer when I want to answer, in my own time, not when you demand it.” And she takes a calculated sip of her drink, her eyes burning at him over the the rim of her glass.

He sucks in a breath, matching her glare with a wide eyed stare. “Wow. You do the Mio act really well.”

“It isn’t an act,” she says.

“Yeah, yeah, you immerse yourself in your role, method acting, of course,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “I think you said that in an interview once. I know all about it. You do it really well. You were my favorite actress in Dark Moon.” He coughs. “I mean, you were slightly less cliché than the others. So.”

Kanae, who has been overlooked in the conversation, jumps in. “So you’re not a Dark Moon fan, but you’re at a Dark Moon party.”

“I go to most of the big parties,” Sho says dismissively.

“This isn’t exactly a big party,” Kanae points out. Which is true.

“My manager got me an invitation,” Sho says. “I was…curious.”

“About all the cliché actors and actresses in Dark Moon,” Kanae says. “Is that right?” She crosses her arms.

Maybe Sho is here to laugh at them all. It would be typical of him. Only he hasn’t been acting like his usual superior, slightly mocking self. He seems…off, and the way he’s looking at Kyoko is nowhere near the way she’s used to.

Sho shakes his head. “Like I said. I thought Mio was more interesting than the others.” He’s looking straight at Kyoko still, even though he was talking to Kanae. “I was curious about you, Kyoko.”

It’s as good as a declaration of love, coming from Sho. Her head is full of white noise, because those words don’t mix well with his parting words to her. He thinks she’s bland, boring. He still would think so if he found out who she is.

Kanae says, “Oh look, someone I should really talk to. Guess I have to go.” She gives Kyoko a look as she leaves the table. Kyoko isn’t totally sure what the look means, but the thumbs up she offers behind Sho’s back seems to mean something good.

But now Kyoko is left alone with Sho and she isn’t ready for this, not yet. She doesn’t know how to gauge Sho’s mood, how to best take advantage of it. Her revenge plans are still fuzzy at best. She tries to smile and asks, “Curious about me?”

“Sure,” Sho says easily. “You didn’t have as many interviews as the others. Only four. It’s like LME was trying to protect you. And one of those, you were with the entire cast so it doesn’t really count.” He coughs. “Anyway. I wanted to ask about…Mio.”

Mio. Kyoko runs a hand through her hair, lifting it so the scar on her forehead becomes ever so slightly more visible. She lets herself slip into her Mio persona as easily as putting on an old shoe. “Go ahead and ask, then.” She slouches back in her seat.

Sho notices and smirks. “You’re Mio right now?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Do you have something to ask me or not?” In Mio’s eyes, Fuwa Sho is nothing more than another punk who needs to learn respect. No one smirks at Mio, not once they’ve known her. And if Sho thinks he knows her because he’s watched the show, because he’s seen a few interviews, he’s wrong. He knows nothing, and if he did know her he would run and hide.

“I was wondering about you and Katsuki,” Sho says. “You don’t interact a lot in the show. When you do, I would say you have a lot of chemistry. More than he has with Mizuki or Misao, at least.”

“Chemistry,” Mio says. “With that idiot?”

“So you don’t like him,” Sho says. “You sure? Your scenes with him were pretty intense. And he’s interested in you, you know.”

Mio shakes her head. Speculation. This punk doesn’t know what he’s talking about. People who think Mio and Katsuki should be together are, in Mio’s opinion, deluded. Kyoko’s opinion doesn’t much  differ, and she lets Mio speak for both of them. “Katsuki’s a prince looking for a princess. He wants a perfect girl.” She pushes her hair back again, her scar on full display. “Mizuki’s a good match. Good girl extraordinaire. And ever so innocent.” She pauses a moment there, tracing the edge of a dessert knife with the tip of her index finger. Mio does like Katsuki, a little bit, by the end of the drama. Katsuki’s handsome, charismatic. He tries to be kind. But at the end of the day, they just wouldn’t work. “Besides, he despises me.”

 “Huh. Well, no one needs Tsuruga Ren anyway,” Sho grumbles.

“We’re talking about Katsuki.”

“Yeah, Katsuki. Despises you? I thought he showed more interest in you than Mizuki sometimes,” Sho says. “He’s always talking about you, after all. If I were Mizuki, I’d be jealous.”

Mio laughs. “You’re funny. Katsuki and I share a very close relationship of hatred.” She smiles. “I wouldn’t expect an outsider to understand. You don’t really know anything about either of us, after all.”

“Outsider?” Sho says. He’s making his offended face, painfully familiar to Kyoko who has seen it a million times over the years, although Mio, seeing it for the first time, thinks it’s hilarious. “I watched every episode of Dark Moon three times. I watched the finale seven times. It was…” He pauses. “Decent.”

“Watching from a distance is different from actually being involved,” Mio says. “If you knew me you would know that no one can love me.”

Sho stands up and walks around the table. He sits down next to Kyoko, where Kanae was sitting before. “I doubt that.”

Kyoko shakes her head, half out of Mio because of his proximity, and is about to answer when he leans forward and…

They collide.

He’s mashed her lips against his, and this can’t be happening. She inhales sharply and realizes she is breathing in air from his mouth, and he doesn’t seem to notice her shock, doesn’t seem to notice that she’s not responding, because his lips remain locked on hers and he’s leaning even closer, his eyes closed and his hands fastening themselves to her shoulders, locking her down like…

She gasps again and shoves him off so hard that he topples off his seat and onto the floor. Thud. Herself, she knocks her chair over in her hurry to scramble up.

He stands, his eyes wide and says, “Kyoko, I’m…”

She stares at him, not meeting his eyes but instead fixated on his lips. A kiss. It’s called a kiss, what he just gave her.

Mio is shocked. No one has ever kissed her before. She always thought herself to ugly to be an object of attraction. She’s never allowed herself to even fantasize about it—best to keep her fantasies in the realms of hatred and spite rather than love. This bastard has broken down barriers that Katsuki and Mizuki never dared to touch.

Kyoko is shocked. When they were “dating” Sho was always careful of how he touched her, even of what he said to her. He didn’t call her beautiful or attractive. He said he loved her, and she pretended it amounted to the same thing, or at least that it was better he not say anything he didn’t think was true. He never kissed her even on the forehead, objected to holding hands for too long. And now he’s kissed her and he doesn’t even know it’s her but he’s given her what she always wanted so casually, so carelessly, and she doesn’t know how to make sense of that.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Sho says. “I guess I got carried away.”

The people who looked over, attention drawn by Sho falling on the floor, are beginning to look away now. It’s just an everyday conversation, no violence. Kyoko suppresses the urge to punch Sho in the gut—it would be satisfying but it wouldn’t be nearly enough recompense for all the things he’s done. And people would look, and blame her for the fight he started by kissing her out of nowhere.

Instead she scowls at him and says, “I don’t even know you.”

“Not yet,” Sho says. “But I want to know you. Don’t you want to know me at all?” And he smiles the smile that has topped many fangirl lists ever since his debut.

It makes Kyoko shudder. But she stops herself before shooting him down. Of course she has no desire to be around the man who broke her heart, and everything she ever felt for him is dead. Of course she hates him, and has no desire to know even what she does know of him (which is far too much). But, she tells herself, her plan to bring Sho down isn’t fully formed yet and she is likely to have a greater advantage if he doesn’t see it coming—say, if he thinks they’re friends, or…

Still, she can’t let him get away with his idiocy so easily. “You want to get to know Mio,” she says, pushing the last vestiges of the Mio persona away. “I’m not Mio. I’m Kyoko.” She’s the girl he pushed away only too recently. Kyouko Mogami, if he would only open his eyes, if he would let himself believe it possible.

“I want to know Kyoko,” Sho says.

She smiles because this is what you call dramatic irony, and he had a chance to get to know her, had years upon years to get to know her, and he doesn’t even know what lies he’s telling. But she says, “Fine. I’ll give you a chance.” And she gives him her cell phone number.

He grins and blows her a kiss when she walks away.

///…///…///

He tells himself he has to be cool, be the second most popular celebrity in Japan, be the guy he’s made out to be. Heck, even Shotaro, the boy he left behind in Kyoto, would know better than to chase a girl too hard. There was nothing less attractive than being needy.

He doesn’t text her for two days through sheer will power.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about her.

Her eyes. Her eyes! Dark Moon focused on other details of her appearance, namely the scar that wasn’t even real. Kyoko’s eyes have captured him in ways her acting could never begin to dream of. She is light and darkness, fire and ice. He doesn’t how it's possible to burn so bright but be so cold at the same time. She is a queen, and for the first time he can remember he longs for the chance to be a subject.

In person, her acting is as good as on television, which means she can improvise, which means she’s clever and creative, not just some director’s doll coached into her role. Good. He thought as much, but one could never be sure. He wishes he sang to her when he had the chance. He would have shown her he was like her—just as real, just as good without sound editing or special effects.

He knows they were roleplaying the whole time they spoke, up until the very last moment, but somehow even her Mio feels more intense, more real, than anyone he’s ever met. Even knowing she was acting, there is nothing about her, even in retrospect that seems unreal, but only fiercely sincere. There was someone else who used to feel that way to him, with the same name. But that Kyouko’s sincerity had been pathetic in its eagerness to please, whereas this one draws him in ways he can’t even understand.

And kissing her was…

All right, fine, she didn’t kiss him back. She even shoved him off. But that was just her nature. She’d make him beg for the next kiss, most likely. He thought he might even enjoy it.

He hasn’t wanted to kiss someone so badly since, well, maybe ever. He dreams about it waking and sleeping, thinks of her when he practices the songs for his next CD, her name working its way into the undercurrents of his new melodies. One hit and he’s addicted, and here he thought he wasn’t that kind of guy.

On the third day he texts her. It takes him a solid hour to decide to only send the word, “hey.”

She texts him back, “Who is this?” Which, fair enough.

“Fuwa Sho. Remember me?” When she doesn’t answer within a couple minutes, he adds, “We met at the Dark Moon party.”

“Who?”

Okay, he’s pretty sure she’s messing with him. Right? They had a whole conversation. An interesting conversation. That ended with kissing. She can’t end every conversation with kissing. Can she? Maybe she does. She’s beautiful enough he’s sure anyone would want to.

This is ridiculous. He shakes his head and texts back, “The guy who kissed you.”

“Oh. You.”

For some reason the response does not reassure him. He isn’t sure what to say next. He types out, “How you doing?” and then backspaces because, cliché much? Sure, it’s casual. But it’s too casual. He can’t catch this girl with casual. He just has to combine interested and unique and flirty and cool, and surely that can’t be too hard. He’s Fuwa Sho.

Thirty minutes later, he sends, “How you doing?” after all.

“Fine.”

He’s stuck again. “Me too. What are you up to lately?” It’s been hard to get news about her now that Dark Moon is over, and she hasn’t done any more interviews.

“Work.”

He’s about to fish for more information when a second text comes.

“You?”

She’s asking about him. Asking about him. He stares at his phone for ten minutes, then starts typing a full summary of the past two days with explanations of all the people and events involved.

He has to send it in more than one part (five parts, actually). That’s probably a bit awkward. But hey, she asked. And what would he leave out? She deserves to know everything about him.

She doesn’t respond right away. That’s good though. Means she’s taking time to read it all, think through her response. Maybe. Probably.

She says, “Typical day, then.”

He had thought his relating of the past two days more dramatic than that, but if he thinks about it, she’s right. Things have been busy, but not more than usual—it’s just thinking of her constantly that has made it agonizing. The fact that she knows that such a busy workload is typical for him means she’s clever, but of course he already knew that. And perhaps it means that she’s thought a bit about what his life is like, which means that she cares about him, which means that they’re meant to be.

“Want to come over to the studio?” he texts her before he can lose the courage to do so. Shoko doesn’t like random people showing up at work but he’s the star and Shoko can deal. He wants to see Kyoko’s face. He wants to see if she’s smiling.

(She probably isn’t. He doesn’t think he’s seen her smile yet. But that’s okay. Her glare is still hot.)

She doesn’t text him back for a while after that. He gets her reply the next day. It says, “No.”

The fact that it took so long clearly means she was thinking it over. She has some reason not to come to the studio and he gets that—even digs it, it’s mysterious which is always sexy—but he knows she wants to come, wants to be by his side. Because she feels the connection between them too.

///…///…///

Kyoko is at first surprised by the number of texts Sho sends her over the next couple weeks, then really not. Because here are some things that she knows about Sho, which apparently haven’t changed a bit:

He loves talking about himself. At length. In detail. His meticulously drawn out texts show that’s still the same as ever. And now that she isn’t in love with him, she realizes, it’s actually pretty boring. But it’s what he does.

Actually, he likes talking in general

And when he sees something he wants, he pursues it regardless of sense and reason, regardless of any arguments that it is not meant to be his. It’s the same as how he was about pursuing fame as a singer, how he seized it with both hands and still hasn’t let go. She’s never seen him act like this about a girl before, and she would not have dreamed he would act like this towards her of all people, but she is not surprised.

Texting too much is exactly his style.

She doesn’t mind his detail heavy texts about his day to day life (they come every day, multiple times), even though they’re often whiny—those she can skim through and all they prove is his arrogance. She doesn’t mind his half-hearted inquiries into her own life either. So far she’s avoided giving him details pretty well. He knows she’s working on the Box R drama in the role of Natsu, but she doesn’t tell him about her struggles in interpreting the role, or (and this is important because Sho would throw a tantrum that she really doesn’t want to deal with right now) Tsuruga Ren’s help with it.

What she does mind is the fact that when he’s in a particular mood, which seems to occur most often late at night, he gets a little aggressive. Like, flirty. Which is more than she knows how to deal with.

“I saw promotional pictures of Natsu,” he texts her.

“They were just released,” she responds.

“You look beautiful.”

“My makeup worker is a magician.” She doesn’t want to get too personal with Sho, but credit where credit is due.

“You’re funny.”

She isn’t sure how to respond to that one, so she ignores it. When she hears the phone buzz again a minute later she’s certain he’s going to go off on another rant about his day, but instead she sees the words, “You would look beautiful in any makeup.”

And she doesn’t know how to respond to that either, not from someone who once called her plain to her face.

“You wouldn’t know,” she writes back at last, because even the makeup to be Mio is somewhat magical, and he’s only ever seen her transformed.

“It’s instinct,” he responds. “You could never not be beautiful.”

 “What if I wore no makeup at all?” she says.

“I’d love to see that. You should send me a picture.”

She doesn’t respond, and when he texts her next he’s back to talking about himself again. As usual.

///…///…///

A week passes. Another week. And another. And another. And another.

Sho wants to see Kyoko but it’s become less of a priority. He has other things on his mind—music, business, though no other girls. He texts her every day, almost every hour. It’s a compulsion, an addiction. But he never goes to see her, and she never comes to see him. It feels like a condition set on their love by a curse. He can communicate with her, can see her in pictures and now the first episode of Box R. He can re-watch interviews and Dark Moon, mentally replay the one time he saw her in person. But they cannot meet again. Not yet.

But like all curses, it’s bound to be broken sooner or later. Knowing he can’t see her now (and not knowing why—she’s more stubborn than any other girl he’s ever known except maybe Kyouko Mogami) only makes the promise of seeing her eventually more delicious. He knows she wants to see him too. She never says so, but he knows.

He tells her about his day, and though she responds briefly he knows she reads every word. He asks her for advice about his music, and she tells him to do what he wants (which of course means he’s always writing and singing about her). He asks her about her day and she’s brief, coy, forcing him to draw more out of her bit by bit, seducing her out of even the most basic information. He tells her she’s beautiful and she refuses to respond.

Perhaps he needs to be more creative with his compliments. He calls her talented, and she accepts. He calls her acting inspired, and she accepts. He tells her he’s constantly thinking about her, and she brushes him off. He tells her she has a nice dress or nice makeup in a promotional picture he’s seen, and she almost gushes, surprisingly girly for a woman of such dark mystery. She has a soft side after all.

But if he calls her beautiful or mysterious or fascinating or any of the traits that keep him up at night, she just shuts down. And he can’t even get close to telling her he loves her. He does, he thinks. Or he will. It’s a premonition that sooner or later they’re bound to get together and when they do, they’re going to be great. But until then he doesn’t want to jinx it, and he thinks she might laugh at words like those anyway.

She has a dark secret, he decides. It’s the only way to explain how squeamish she gets over discussing her own beauty and value. Someone in the past hurt her—told her she was worthless, maybe. Alternatively someone committed suicide over unrequited love for her after telling her she was beautiful. Whatever it is, she has a reason not to trust men.

He just has to show her that whatever she thinks of those other men, false flatterers, people who can only hurt her, that’s not Sho. What he feels for her is real.

When he finally ends up going over to the Box R set to see her, it’s not even his own idea. He’s been recording a new song about their relationship (or lack thereof, but Sho’s optimistic) called “Let Me See You,” and when the recording is done, Shoko takes him aside.

“You were singing about Kyoko,” she says. Lips pressed tight.

“Yeah,” he says, because what else would he be singing about?

“Who you haven’t seen in a month and a half.”

“Yeah.”

“Which is the biggest problem in your life right now.”

“If you knew her, you’d feel the same,” Sho says, because Shoko just doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand the connection he knows he and Kyoko have. No one could ever understand.

“You text her every day,” Shoko says. “Does she text you back?”

“Yeah,” Sho says, crossing his arms. “Did you think I was just texting into the void?”

Shoko rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen you do dumber things.”

“Yeah, well,” Sho says. “She likes me too. We just…”

“Sho,” Shoko says. “You’ve been talking and singing about her for a long time now. You’re obsessed, and you barely know her. Do you even call her?”

He avoids her eyes. “Texting is better.”

“No, seeing her face to face is better, and you know it,” Shoko says. “You need to get to know her and stop obsessing over her image in the media. You’ve barely met her at all.” She pats his arm. “She’s working on Box R set today until at least six. It’s a quick drive.”

She leaves before he can explain to her that he has reasons he hasn’t seen Kyoko in a while, good reasons. Except he’s not entirely sure what he would say. He doesn’t ask to see her that often anymore, has accepted their relationship as it is, but he still wants to. And it wouldn’t be so bad to show up at her work and surprise her, right? Boyfriends surprise girlfriends like that all the time. Kyoko and Sho aren’t exactly dating, but they aren’t exactly nothing either, and maybe it’s time to figure out what they are.

He’s out the door before he can convince himself it’s a bad idea.

///…///…///

Natsu comes more easily to Kyoko than Mio. She’s not sure why. She isn’t very like Natsu, although she wasn’t all that like Mio either. Maybe it’s because of Makino and Sudo, both of whom are petty enough that it’s easy to believe they really are her backstabbing minions. They remind her of the girls who spread rumors about her in middle school, who wouldn’t be friends with her because they were jealous of her relationship with Sho. Remind her of repressing tears, trying to pretend she didn’t care about anyone else because she had Sho, becoming stronger, self sufficient. They make it just so easy to be a bitch.

Well, that and Tsuruga Ren’s advice about how to act like a model. It’s easier when your posture and makeup say you’re beautiful and heartless to make yourself believe it. And today, she believes it.

She is in the zone. She is on.

Today they’re working on the episode where Natsu actually kisses a member of the lead’s love triangle, so Natsu is in sexy mode. Spiteful-sexy: she doesn’t actually care about the guy she kisses, but she knows she can have him, and she knows it will bother the lead. To Natsu he tastes like triumph.

She was worried, earlier, about this scene, whether she’d be able to do the kissing part right. In the end, it was easy. Sho already stole her first kiss (that jerk) and this one doesn’t mean anything, not to Kyoko or to Natsu. It’s all for appearances. And it’s not like the directors make her do much more than peck him on the lips.

Natsu, given the choice, would do more, but Kyoko knows how to keep Natsu under control.

She also knows how to let Natsu take over in a second’s notice, which is the only way she doesn’t go into either a panic attack or a rage when Fuwa Sho shows up in the room where she’s taking a break between scenes with Makino.

“Hey, beautiful. Thought I’d drop by.”

And Kyoko would take issue with the word beautiful, would already be strangling him by now, but she can’t do that. She doesn’t know just what to do (he didn’t text her he was coming, she’s not prepared) so she lets Natsu take the wheel.

Natsu gives him a quick scan and chuckles. She doesn’t even bother to stand up, instead slouching further back in her chair. “Drop by, huh? No big deal?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”

She does stand now, slow and deliberate, and stalks over to stand too close to him, gets in his personal space. “You’re trembling.” She leans in to murmur in his ear. “Is this what just my presence does to you? I thought you were the great Fuwa Sho. Not exactly cool, are you?”

He smiles. Always good at putting up a front, but his hands are quaking, and she can feel his body vibrate when she drapes an arm over his shoulders. It’s enough to make Natsu chuckle.

 “That’s okay. It’s kind of cute.” She pats him on the head.

Boys are pets to Natsu, and that’s what Sho is; definitely more a boy than a man. That means he’s a plaything, means he’s easy. But he’s done something amusing, showing up when she didn’t expect it. Kyoko might freak out over something like that, but Natsu thinks putting that much effort into impressing her (and he’s clearly nervous, poor dear) is adorable.

His smile is more real now, though still uncertain. “It’s good to see you in person.”

“Texting gets a bit old, doesn’t it?”

“I do like texting you,” Sho says immediately. “But…” He shrugs. “It’s silly not to see you when we live in the same city, isn’t it?”

Silly. She can tell he doesn’t quite mean it. So she knows it’ll put him more off balance when she laughs and agrees. “Let’s make a deal,” she says. “After my next scene, I’m done for the day. You can take me out for dinner, and we can talk. What do you think?”

He licks his lips. “Sounds great.”

She licks her lips, deliberately mimicking what on him is a nervous tic. He doesn’t seem to notice the mockery, but his eyes fixate on her mouth. She smirks. “Well then, I suppose it’s a date.”

He grins. “Yeah.”

Kyoko doesn't think she's even seen him this nevous over anything before, and he’s never been uncertain about her, certainly—except when she was crying. Old Kyoko wants to set him at his ease, tell him it’s fine that he came, and he doesn’t have to be this skittish around her. New Kyoko wants to punch him in the gut, but she’d settle for having him out of her face.

Natsu smiles and leaves him in the break room while she works on the next scene.

///…///…///

He takes Kyoko to a fancy restaurant. It should impress her—she hasn’t been in the business for all that long and her friends can’t be that rich.

She is decidedly unimpressed. And orders one of the more expensive entrees on the menu.

Well, she’s a classy lady. Probably she’ll be high maintenance if he can ever convince her to be his. He has to admit, he likes it. The only other woman he’s tried long term was Mogami (though she was more of a girl than a woman) and if he learned one thing from that relationship, it was that the doormat look just didn’t do it for him.

And he likes when she leans across the table and murmurs in his ear, insignificant things that shouldn't make him breathe harder, shouldn’t make his heart speed up, but her voice…He hadn’t realized yet how powerful her voice was in person. Just being with her, to be honest…it’s surreal.

And what he likes most of all is when the dinner comes and she glances down at his meal and smiles and says, “Just a minute,” and leans over even further to plant a kiss on his mouth.

And this time he’s the one who’s left bewildered, unsure how to respond. But he doesn’t push her away, at least, so there’s still a difference. He holds her close to him and after a moment kisses back, slow and sweet.

It’s over in less than a minute and she leans back in her seat, saying, “I had to do it while your mouth was still fresh.” Which is utterly utilitarian for such a sweet kiss and Sho doesn’t know what to say.

They eat together, making light conversation about work. Kyoko tells him about filming Box R, but she won’t talk too much about how she feels about being Natsu, and often brings the subject back to him. And she listens to him telling her all the details of the past couple weeks (which he already texted to her anyways), combined with descriptions of how he thought about her constantly, and he gets the sense that she still isn’t impressed. Just amused.

When he offers to drive her home she declines but kisses him hard on the mouth again before she walks away.

And he knows he’s making progress.

At least, he thinks he knows. But for the next week he’s back to just texting her, and then he sees the latest episode of Box R. Where Natsu kisses a boy she isn’t even interested in. And she does it with the same amused smile she wore before kissing Sho.

Natsu’s speech patterns, now that he thinks about it, are much like Kyoko’s were that night. Same for her posture and mannerisms.

He texts her, “That night when we went out to dinner, were you still playing Natsu?” And it takes him a half hour to get up the courage to send this text even though he’s been texting her for so long now.

She texts him back, “It took you that long to catch on?”

And he has to swallow. Because he’s met her in person as Mio, and again as Natsu, but never as herself. And he’s let her real self escape from him again, right when he thought he had finally seen her.

He texts her agin. “Who are you playing when you text me?”

She doesn’t respond.

That isn’t the same as saying she’s being herself. He can’t tell if she’s offended and refusing to text him because of that, or avoiding telling him that yes, she’s never been herself around him, or what.

And although he’s been texting her for so long now, he’s suddenly fed up with it, having to wait for responses, having to interpret and misinterpret and reinterpret every word five times over and question every word he sends in response. And he’s sick of being without her face.

So he drives down to the Box R set again, except this time she’s not there. He doesn’t know her schedule, and he curses himself for it—he’s not a stalker, but it would come in handy right about now.

A girl named Makino tells him to check at LME. Which is the obvious answer, but he’s distressed enough not to have thought of it until now. He heads out again.

When he finds her, she’s wearing a hideously bright pink uniform and mopping the floor like a janitor. Right, she’s in the Love Me division still, which is frankly ridiculous. A woman as talented as Kyoko shouldn’t be judged because some crazy like Lory thinks she doesn’t have enough “heart.”

He clears his throat and she whirls around, and for an instant he sees a surprised expression, a flash of—vulnerability maybe?—before her face shuts down into a glare.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you,” he says. She continues to glare, and he crosses his arms, reminds himself that he came here because he needs to talk to her. He can’t back down. “You were playing Natsu the other night. Don’t deny it.”

She laughs, caustic. “Deny it? Why should I?” And with the blazing eyes that originally enthralled him, she says, “I will play whatever part I wish. You do not control me.”

He sucks in a breath. It doesn’t match her speech patterns or posture from interviews, but he does have a frame of reference. “I wanted to talk to Kyoko, not you, Mio.”

“I thought you said I was fascinating,” Mio says, shifting her weight back aggressively. “Get tired of me?”

“I like the actress who plays you,” Sho says. “You’re only a part of her. I want all of her.” He swallows. “I want the real Kyoko.”

She laughs again, shaking her head. “You don’t want Kyoko. Not really.” She straightens, smooth and catlike, and stalks over to his side. “You don’t even know her. And if you did, you wouldn’t like her that much at all.”

Sho says, “I know she’s talented. I know she’s beautiful. I know she’s patient enough to put up with my texts for the last couple months. And I know that I want to know her. I will never give up.”

She leans in at his ear. “High opinion of this Kyoko, hm? Maybe she’s not as nice as you think.”

“I don’t think she’s nice,” Sho says. “After all, Natsu, she created you.”

Natsu (and yes, that’s what Kyoko is acting right now) smirks.

“I think she’s a little messed up, but she’s a genius and the most intriguing person I’ve ever known,” Sho says. “And I think I have the right to judge her for myself. I should get that chance.”

Natsu brushes his lips with a kiss. “You don’t have the right to anything of mine, Sho,” she says. He needs to stop himself from blushing at the intimacy of his name on her tongue, more intimate even than the kiss. “Guess you’ll have to learn how to settle.”

///…///…///

Sho doesn’t give up easily. This much Kyoko already knew, but it’s becoming more and more obvious and more and more annoying with every day.

He still texts her, and she still responds (why, she isn’t sure anymore). He keeps on showing up at her work and she’s just thankful she never let him drive her home, never showed him where she lives.

He says he wants to see the real Kyoko, which never stops to be hilarious (and she’ll call it that to ignore the pull in her chest which is definitely not humor) but she knows he’s a hypocrite because he still always settles for Natsu. He likes Natsu, she can tell. Natsu kisses him, though if he gets too touchy she’ll shove him off and tell him to control himself—he’ll take exactly what she gives him and no more. Kyoko finds she doesn’t mind kissing him as Natsu. She didn’t mind it the first time and it hasn’t really changed. Natsu isn’t her. For Natsu, kisses are rewards and tethers and manipulations and guilty pleasures, but they’re never really a sign of love. Natsu would never allow herself to fall in love. Just like Mio. Just like Kyoko.

She supposes in that way she does show Sho her real self on a regular basis. Pity he doesn’t appreciate it. He thinks the kisses actually mean something. Idiot.

Natsu is getting somewhat fond of him, in a contemptuous sort of way.

Mio is beginning to think he might mean some of what he says, and is surprised that after so many arguments he’s still willing to talk to her.

Kyoko is getting tired of hearing his voice and seeing his face.

She can’t remember why she thought dealing with Sho was a good idea in the first place. Revenge is all well and good, and yes, she knows she still isn’t really in a good enough position to wreak vengeance in a satisfactory manner (though she’s getting close), but he’s beginning to wear on her. Tsuruga, she thinks, wouldn’t approve of her stringing Sho along. Lory definitely wouldn’t. And she isn’t sure why she still does. It’s not even good revenge. He might get nervous around her, but overall he seems to be enjoying himself. She’s only making herself miserable, and didn’t someone (she can’t remember who anymore) once tell her the best revenge was to live well?

It comes to a head when he picks her up—as Natsu—from Box R and drives her to the same nice restaurant he first brought her to. It’s exactly the same except now, instead of sitting across from her at the table he sits next to her on a booth, and, once they’ve ordered their food, offers her a nicely wrapped box. She unwraps it and opens it, and sitting inside is a delicate pendant necklace with a thin, silver chain.

It’s exactly the kind of nicety Kyoko used to dream about back when she spent every cent she made on keeping Sho in room, board and fashion. She stares at it.

“What is this?” she says in a voice that certainly isn’t Natsu’s. She isn’t even sure she recognizes whom this voice belongs to.

“It’s our anniversary,” Sho says. “It’s been three months since I first met you at the Dark Moon party. I thought you might like a token. Not much, but…” He shrugs.

It’s probably even more expensive than it looks. The old Kyoko would have died to get something like this from Sho, would have begged him to take it back to the store to save expenses while feeling so warm because even if she knew she shouldn’t have such nice things, didn’t deserve them, Sho had gotten it for her and that meant he loved her, right? But the old Sho had never even bothered to get Kyoko a cheap necklace, never mind one as nice as this.

Sho kisses her forehead, and that’s it. Kyoko looks up. “What is wrong with you?”

“Eh? I’m feeling fine,” Sho says. “Just celebrating our relationship, baby.”

“We don’t have a relationship,” Kyoko says. “You just text me and argue with Mio and make out with Natsu. You don’t actually know me at all.” She clenches the pendant in her fist, half wanting to throw it away or tear it to pieces but unwilling to make herself damage something so lovely. “Why would you give me something like this when…” And she chokes on her words because how does she finish that sentence? When he treated her like garbage back when she worshipped at his feet? When he knew how much old Kyoko would have adored a gift like this? He doesn’t know new Kyoko at all, doesn’t even know her last name, and new Kyoko tends to treat him…well, sort of like Sho used to treat her.

New Kyoko, after all, is half composed of Natsu. She makes him buy her expensive things. She glares at him and insults him and barely answers his texts. She always makes him contact her first, come to see her first. Old Kyoko would have hated the way new Kyoko acted, would shudder in disgust.

And she doesn’t understand why Sho loves new Kyoko when he never loved old Kyoko. Because despite everything, some part of her still thinks old Kyoko was better.

“Hey,” Sho says softly. “Kyoko. Are you okay?”

Natsu wants to smile and shake him off, because of course she’s okay. She’ll put on the pendant and say something appreciative and dismissive simultaneously, and things will go back to normal.

Old Kyoko wants to smile and excuse herself and run off to cry somewhere more private because Sho never knows how to deal with a crying girl, or with her crying, at least.

Mio wants to glare at him and say something about how it’s none of his business and she doesn’t want his stupid pendant and she hates him and of course she’s not okay, she hasn’t been okay in a long, long time and doesn’t know if she ever will be.

And Kyoko…

Kyoko doesn’t know what she wants.

But she knows that she used to want Sho to look at her the way he looks at her now. And she knows that no matter how he looks at her now, she can’t bear to look him in the eyes.

She’s choking back a sob, turning away from him (old Kyoko really does conquer at times like these, no matter how hard she tries to leave the past behind) and eyeing the door to the restaurant (she can pay him for the meal they ordered later, right now she just needs to get out) but he reaches out and grabs her arm and pulls her back, pulls her back into the booth and into his arms.

“Let go of me,” she says.

“Why do you want to leave?” he asks. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, even though saying a lie like that makes her lips twist. “I just need to go.”

“Please,” he says. “Don’t leave.”

His arms are tight around her, half constricting, half comforting, and old Kyoko and Mio and Natsu would all smile at him through teary eyes and make their excuses and get out of there.

But new Kyoko is weak and selfish, and Sho is holding her with that vulnerable longing look on his face, beautiful (yes, for the first time she’ll admit that he never stopped being lovely), and her own face crinkles up, ugly, and a sob rips through her throat like a knife.

And when she cries, she’s all of them at once. She’s Natsu, ashamed of herself for letting down her guard. She’s Mio, baring another scar to him, one she tried to pretend did not exist. She’s old Kyoko, down at the riverside, letting loose the mask she always wears around him. And Sho folds them all up in his arms, and rocks them until their sobs subside.

He kisses her on the lips, and she wonders if he tastes the salt that dripped off her cheeks. “You’re the real Kyoko, aren’t you?”

And she’s truthful when she says, “Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore.” She’s been trying to redefine herself since losing him, but she still hasn’t reached solid ground and she isn’t even sure she wants to. It means leaving everything she knows behind.

He kisses her on the lips again. “That’s fine. I’m sorry if I was pressuring you too much.” Another kiss. “You can be whoever you want to with me. It’s all fine.”

She shakes her head. It’s the biggest lie she’s ever heard. But she can’t bring herself to speak, explain it to him, break the moment, break the illusion.

“You can trust me, Kyoko,” he says softly.

 She lets him drive her home for the first time that day. And when she gets home, she puts on the pendant and looks in the mirror. It looks good on her, but she doesn’t look like old Kyoko. She’s gone beyond what that girl could have imagined now.

The last time she cried before today was before joining LME. A long time ago. She feels empty and full at the same time. It’s more satisfying to cry in Sho’s arms than to cry over him alone in her room. For the first time, he knew what to do.

He knew how to take care of the new Kyoko, knew how to love her in ways he never loved the person she used to be. The girl he knew was some odd mixture of Natsu’s condescending smiles and Mio’s defiant arguments and Kyoko’s long suffering text messages and whatever public persona he’s seen in her interviews, but somehow he’s figured out how to love her better than the girl he knew his entire childhood. They fit together in ways they never did before.

Kyoko stares in the mirror at the new Kyoko, the woman she doesn’t quite understand yet, but that apparently Sho understands quite well, and comes to the realization that old Kyoko and new Kyoko are alike in the one way she always wanted to prevent. New Kyoko wants Sho. She doesn’t want the relationship they used to have, but she wants him. She wants to give him taunting Natsu kisses and mock him in her Mio voice and lie back in his arms when she’s feeling weak. She wants him to send her long texts and show up at her workplace, begging her for attention. She wants him to tremble at her voice but still be brave enough (or maybe desperate enough) to grab her arm when she tries to leave.

She wants him to keep telling her she’s beautiful. She wants him to keep on loving her, to keep on adoring her.

Silly, of course, to come to this end when she had started out seeking revenge (but the best revenge is living well, Natsu reminds her, the best revenge is getting as much satisfaction out of him as you can while he’s still an infatuated mess). But she can’t turn back. She refuses to lose him a second time.

She’s certain she can keep him as long as he never finds out she was Kyouko Mogami. She’ll just have to keep that part of herself locked up forever. It shouldn’t be that hard. After locking up the darkness inside herself for so long, she has practice.

///…///…///

Holding Kyoko as she cries is one of the hardest things Sho has ever done. Every instinct he has tells him to run away, to avoid her tears like he always avoided Mogami’s. But he knows if he does that she’ll just keep on hurting, breaking. He’ll lose her. Worse, she might lose herself.

So he holds her tight and waits out the storm, hoping his terror doesn’t show on his face.

She never tells him what made her cry. But after that day they grow even closer than before. She doesn’t always play Natsu or Mio with him, sometimes reverting to a more plain and sincere and occasionally even girly mode he calls “Base Kyoko”. He loves her in that mode, but he’s beginning to realize that loving her means loving her no matter how she acts, no matter what mask she chooses to wear. Kyoko is a shifting mass of roles and confusion, and he may still be exploring her depths when they’re both eighty. (Yes, he’s optimistic.)

It’s hard to love her sometimes. Mio is confrontational and sly. She always knows just what to say to hit his weak points, break him down. He doesn’t know how Kyoko can have such uncanny sense of how to upset him. But when she insults and abuses him he bears it patiently, knowing sooner or later her Mio mood will break and she will be his good girl again, as long as he’s her good boy for now. And Natsu can be snide too, and she’ll flirt with any guy in a ten mile radius, in front of him if she feels like it. He reminds himself she’s doing it to test him, to see if he’ll get mad, to see if he cares. Natsu is insecure—Kyoko brings her out when she has something to prove. He has to be careful around Natsu.

Base Kyoko is an enigma. She is, he knows, the woman he loves. She has the fiery eyes of Mio, but they are subdued by dignity and restraint. She gets excited over small things sometimes, which always makes him smile. She loves to dress up, talk about her friends. She lets him treat her to the finer things of life, lets him kiss her and show her affection in ways neither Natsu nor Mio are willing to allow.

But if she gets mad, she doesn’t need Mio or Natsu to take him apart. They draw strength from her, he learns, not vice versa. Kyoko is strong enough to support all of them.

She doesn’t cry in front of him again, or tell her why she was sad, or what makes her so moody and insecure sometimes. If he asks she’ll either deflect or attack, but she’ll never answer.

But that’s fine. He knows their connection is real, knows she loves him, knows that they are meant to be. Sooner or later she’s bound to open up about her past, show more of herself to him. And when she does, he knows it will bind them together even more closely, and they will finally be able to love her the way he wants. The way she needs.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Small Fandom Fest for the prompt "Sho/Kyoko, toxic." I don't know if I quite got the toxic down but I tried real hard. Toxic can mean addictive, so Sho is addicted to Kyoko from the beginning, despite not knowing her well. More than that, I hoped to portray a relationship that honestly isn't good for either of them. Hopefully I succeeded.  
> Comments and kudos would be much appreciated.


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